Heads Will Roll
by Very Special Lee
Summary: After Special Agent Blackadder left NCIS Gibbs and Tony are a two man team. Unexpectantly they are joined by the young Agent Thompson, who knows more about Gibbs' past than Gibbs likes anyone to do. It doesn't particularly help that Tony's curiosity is only excelled by Gibbs' need for coffee.
1. Chapter 1

**Heads Will Roll**

by Very Special Lee

AN: I hope you enjoy this story and leave any kind of comments and criticism behind. And I'm shutting up now.

* * *

_Washington D.C. 2002_

"DiNozzo, you're with Agent Thompson today," said Gibbs not even looking up from the files on his desk as his Senior Field Agent entered the bullpen. He was carrying two cups of coffee and placed one firmly on Gibbs' desk. "Can I ask why?" Tony asked, taking a draught of the hot substance and nearly spitting it out again. "Yours," grimacing he changed the coffee cups. He frowned slightly as Gibbs looked up to him.

"Of course you can, DiNozzo." A barely noticeable smirk appeared on Gibbs' face, but Tony saw it even though it only stayed there for a matter of seconds.

"Why do I work with Thompson today, Boss? I thought he was still working on a case in Baltimore with Special Agent Lucas."

"The case was solved last week," answered Gibbs, "and every team is already assigned to a case. Lucas called in sick yesterday and you're the only agent I trust enough to lead an investigation with a probie."

Tony almost choked on his coffee (four large spoons with sugar- a taste he had acquired keep Gibbs away from his coffee) as he heard those words and the underlying praise in them. He found himself looking at his Boss- jaw nearly touching the floor and with shock widened eyes. That was unexpected. It wasn't like he didn't know that Gibbs trusted him, or else he wouldn't let him do interrogations or research on suspects. But working with a probie and solving a case without the support of his partner was a whole other story.

"What about you, Boss?" Tony asked, not knowing if he just misheard. A smile that could've been seen as insecure flashed over his face.

Gibbs took a sip from his coffee and then said curtly "I'll join you later on."

Tony pressed his lips together and nodded. He just hoped he wouldn't disappoint Gibbs and that the probie would actually have some skills or talents that were needed for the job as an investigator. He felt like someone was watching him; no, rather like ice blue eyes were piercing right into his soul and were burning his skin- he was staring. Shaking his head slightly he followed the subtle nod of his Boss to his own desk where the young man was standing and apparently waiting for him, since he was already wearing his gear already and a green bag over his shoulder. Thompson looked like he hadn't slept properly in days and as if he had spent the entire weekend behind his desk, writing reports and filling in forms. His blonde hair was unkempt and his designer beard told he hadn't had time to shave yet. He was shifting nervously on his spot and his gesture seemed a bit stiff, but drained.

"He looks anxious," Tony noted as he turned back to his Boss.

"So would you if you're handed from the care of one agent to another, DiNozzo," replied Gibbs, giving Tony the what-the-hell-are-you-still-waiting-for look. Tony tilted his head in confirmation and then shot a grin at Gibbs. "How does he drive?"

"Slower than I," Gibbs said vague. "You probably won't get carsick, but I wouldn't count on it."

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Thompson flinched as Tony patted him on the shoulder. "C'mon Tommy-boy, you're with me."

He raised a lonely eyebrow as Thompson handed him the keys of the car when they entered the main elevator. "Doctor Mallard still hasn't cleared me for every task field work requires, driving is one of them," Thompson explained quietly.

Tony gave a curt nod and in silence they walked over to the truck of Special Agent Lucas. Mud was knee-high on the exterior, and though the inside was clean it smelt of cigarettes and old socks. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Thompson doing the same. How could someone possibly endure this smell all the time? Poor probie.

However, Tony smiled as the younger one said, "We should leave the windows open. You shouldn't have much trouble breathing then." Thompson mirrored his smile, but it didn't reach his haunted eyes. "And call me Ben, please."

"Pleasure, Ben. I'm Tony," DiNozzo answered, extending his right hand to the man riding shotgun and casting a wary glance at him. His eyes didn't miss the genuine sign of relief in Thompson's eyes at this simple and normal gesture. After entering the address into the satnav Ben leaned back and winced as he lifted his bag up, searching for a file.

"What do we have?"

"According to the one who found the body suicide," said Ben, scanning over a print of the conversation Gibbs had given him earlier. "But until proven it is murder. The victim is Sergeant Marie Randall. She didn't return from leave two days ago and her CO couldn't reach via phone. So he sent someone to check on her. They found her body in her bedroom. She hanged herself-"

"Hung," corrected Tony, his eyes not leaving the street before him.

"Right, hung herself," Ben repeated. He flushed and bit his lip. But he tensed as Tony stopped abruptly, almost crashing into the side of a car. He didn't seem shocked by the sudden change of speed, more of the force which pressed him back into his seat. In fact, Tony would have gone so far to describe the expression on Thompson's face as fear like he was having a flashback of some gruesome event. And then Tony understood why Thompson's posture had been so stiff the whole time- he was on alert. Pupils enlarged and his grey eyes were reddened. Dark shadows were beneath them. Thompson looked like he was ill.

"What happened?" Tony asked in a soft voice after a while and it remained silent for such a long time that he wondered whether to repeat his question or not as Ben eventually began to speak, his voice wavering. "My partner, Special Agent Silverstone, and I were on an undercover mission. Someone blew our cover and he was shot immediately. I wished they'd just do the same to me, but they didn't." He laughed a bitter and humourless laugh that made Tony's blood ran cold. "They… they injected me truth serum and tortured me. I was held captive for almost a week. When the FBI found me in an abandoned building I was delirious and John dead. More than a year of undercover work for nothing- we lost track of them in Spain. By now they could be anywhere."

Tony stayed silent. He knew better than to interrupt the younger one.

"This was four months ago, but after all this 3Rs crap I was cleared to do work beyond desk duty only six weeks ago. The bloody FBI even made me participate in a psychological test." Ben forced a grin.

"No offense, but I like doing undercover work," said Tony, uncertain of how to handle the situation. But he assumed saying he was sorry would neither give Thompson comfort nor help.

"Yeah, me too."

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

When they arrived at the crime scene Tony sent Ben inside to take photographs of the room and to search for evidence as well as for "hinky things" as Abby would say. He knew the younger man would give his best at this task and wouldn't been stupid enough to touch anything, nor to move things even when wearing gloves before he had inspected the scene himself. At least he hoped so.

Putting on his cap, he smirked as Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard arrived; maybe the ME had some information on the current state of Thompson's health. Hippocratic Oath or not, he needed to know what was wrong with him and how far he could push the probie without breaking him. DiNozzo's rule number 13: Never pick on a probie when he's down.

"Anthony, my dear boy, where's Jethro?" asked Ducky, patting Tony's arm in an affectionate manner.

"He'll be the first to ask back at the Head Quarters what you've got for him. Trust me," Tony said, taking in the surroundings of the small house. The meadow was well kept and not even a single leaf was resting on it, though it was already October. None of the windows were broken, but heavy looking curtains were drawn shut. Either Sergeant Randall had done it before her death or someone else had, and he'd curse those LEOs if they had anything to do with it. There were few things he disliked as much as contaminated crime scenes and he was aware that Gibbs would so not be pleased if he found out some rookie had made a major mistake.

"But until then I am leading the investigation. Agent Thompson's under my command at the moment."

"Did he drive?" Ducky narrowed his eyes at Tony in question as they walked toward the front door of the house.

"No. He told me he couldn't. Care to tell why?"

Ducky sighed quietly and glanced at Tony with an unreadable expression in his eyes, which were full with compassion and sincere concern. "Physically Benjamin is cleared for driving, but his supervisor, friend and also partner was shot in a car after their cover was blown and I simply can't guarantee he won't suffer from flashbacks while being on the road. It'd be irresponsible to allow him driving a car."

"Understood," Tony whispered flatly. He learned what it was like losing a partner the hard tour back in Philly, where some even framed him for the murder.

Carefully Tony glanced at the carpet runner in front of the door. With pride he noticed Thompson had marked it as evidence, maybe Abby would be able to find some traces of someone who shouldn't have been there.

"There's no sign of forced entry, Tony," said Ben, almost stepping backwards as Tony's gaze met his eyes. "I've been breaking door locks for ages; however, I can only examine the obvious state of the lock and of what's left of the door… The guy who was sent to check on Sergeant Randall kicked in the freaking door. Hurray."

"Alright," Tony grinned at the thick note of sarcasm in Ben's voice. "Try and figure out if Randall had family or people who knew her very well."

"I wondered when you'd ask," Ben stated, and rubbed his bloodshot eyes before he started telling Tony everything he knew. It turned out that Randall's closest acquaintance was her CO and a fellow soldier, who was currently deployed in Iraq and would stay there for the next ten months, unless unfortunate events would send him home sooner and in a wooden box. She grew up at an orphanage and usually spent her time on her own if she wasn't at the military base.

"Let's go in, shall we?" Ducky said. "We don't have as much time as the poor girl inside before Jethro wants our heads."

Chuckling Thompson followed the ME inside. "He will want Tony's head, Doctor," he replied and guided the older man to the corpse.

"I heard that," Tony muttered under his breath and joined them.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

At first glance it really looked like suicide: the young woman was hanging on the ceiling fan with a rope around her neck, no bruises were covering her lifeless body and as far as Tony could tell from a two metres distance she looked fine, that is apart from the fact that she was dead. The room was as tidy as you'd expect it from someone in the military and the only thing not fitting in the picture of utter cleanness was her undid bed. Then again why would someone who committed suicide make their bed? Exactly.

"Assuming this was murder… why didn't she fight the rope? There no scratches around her neck," asked Thompson quietly, his full attention resting on the ME. "I mean, it's like in the movies. You know Robin Hood starring Kevin Costner, Alan Rickman and Morgan Freeman? So there's this boy the sheriff from Nottingham wants hanged and they put the rope around his neck and push him down-"

"And he brings his hands up to his neck, trying to prevent the rope from choking him," completed Tony.

"The rope isn't long enough to have broken her neck from this height, unless she jumped from the bed but there ain't any traces of footsteps on it," Thompson cut in. "A long rope breaks your neck but a short one chokes you till you pass out from the lack of oxygen."

Ducky nodded. "I'd be grateful if you'd stop doing my job," he said jokingly.

"Approximate time of death?" Tony asked being serious again and ready to write it down on his notepad.

"You're just like Jethro, dear Anthony, impatient," retorted Ducky. "I arrived here less than five minutes ago. Before I can tell you we need to get her down there."

For a moment Tony looked taken aback, and then he motioned Thompson to pass the camera and scanned through the pictures taken. Finding them good enough he took in every detail of the scene before him. The not existing sign of a struggle or fight, the closed window, the untouched bed, the well-kept plants- hold on. Untouched bed?

"Thompson, do you think Randall slept in this bed before committing suicide?"

Without even glancing at the bed Thompson confirmed that no one recently had touched the white sheets. "Maybe she was on holiday?" he suggested.

Tony simply looked at him, tilting his head. "And I'm gone checking if she indeed was on holiday," Thompson said and left the house in a hurry.

"Atta boy," muttered Tony and helped Ducky to get the girl down to the floor. Then he stood close by and drew a sketch of the crime scene without even needing to look up from his sketchbook. He didn't need to. The details had burned themselves into his mind and he couldn't help but to shudder as he realised that he would've been able to draw the sketched of crimes committed years ago, when he was still working of the PD in Baltimore, Philly or Peoria. This was one of the reasons he tended to joke around at work, because it was hard not to suffer from nightmares after cases that hit close to home or left someone loved behind. They always did. Someone would always miss the victim.

"According to my calculations she died twelve hours ago," said Ducky and pulled Tony back into reality. Tony sighed and then closed his sketchbook. "Time of death: around 9 o'clock in the evening, yesterday."

"Can you see these penetration whole here at the side of her neck, Tony? I think the poor girl was given drugs to sedate her, but I can tell you more after the autopsy."

"Clearly someone wanted to cover them," mused Tony and moved around, kneeling opposite the ME now he took a few more pictures. Then he pointed at the red marks in a v-constellation around Randall's neck. "Maybe they drugged her and then put the rope around her neck to make it look like suicide."

Awesome. He silently watched as Ducky wrapped Randall's body into a plastic tarp, after he had helped him to get her down. Sensing a presence at leaning in the door frame he lifted his gaze and blinked at Thompson, giving him the permission to speak.

"She wasn't on holiday!" Thompson said, "I checked her banking account and her e-mails. Additionally, I found her duffel bag in the bin in a plastic sack. Sure as hell she wouldn't have packed it if she intended to take her own life, right? And she sent her CO a message she'd be ill on Monday, a day before she was ought to return. But why would she kill herself three days later and not this instant?" He bit his lip and then said more to himself than to anyone else "That's what we're here for. To find out of course."

Standing up Tony nodded. "Thompson, take the evidence to Abby and tell Gibbs it wasn't suicide."

Tony looked at the content of an evidence bag. "Antidepressants... Whoever did this wants everyone to believe she did it herself."

"On it," said Thompson and obediently returned to the truck, loading it with the bags containing the evidence. "Oh, and Tony," he said, sticking his head back into the room once more, "her car is missing. I'll write an APB."

"Don't talk about it, probie. Do it!" yelled Tony and flipped his mobile phone open. "And find out who had motives to kill her," he called after the younger agent. "I want the name and address of everyone having a grudge against her."

He almost jumped as someone patted his back. "Somehow you remind me of our friend Jethro," Ducky said quietly. "Don't be too hard with Benjamin, Anthony. He's not back to 100 % yet."

"He wants to become a Special Agent of the NCIS, Ducky," answered Tony, mildly surprise how cool and collected he sounded. "No matter how he's feeling, he has to be there with more than a 100 %."


	2. Chapter 2

Special thanks goes to Theo Black. A good friend of mine.  
As always I like receiving comments and suggestions. – Very Special Lee

* * *

Exactly ten minutes and thirty-two seconds later Ben entered the house again, holding his mobile he patiently waited for Gibbs to pick up. He felt relieved as he heard a gruff voice saying "Yeah, Gibbs."

"It wasn't suicide," Ben said. "Doctor Mallard should arrive at the yard in approximately forty minutes."

"Wrap up the scene once you're finished," answered Gibbs on the other end of the line.

"Okay, sure."

"And get me some coffee."

"We'll get you one," promised Ben, feeling it wouldn't be good for his health not get the team leader his coffee. Suppressing a sigh Ben found himself standing right in front of Tony. "Gibbs said we should wrap up the scene and get him some coffee," he explained and was surprised as Tony didn't ask him why he was still here and hadn't drove back to the Yard; however, Ben had the distinct feeling that Tony wanted to know. "You don't leave your partner alone."

"Good," acknowledged Tony, patting Thompson's arm. In retrospection it had been a bit stupid to assume the probie would drive back alone, after all the words of Ducky as ME concerning Thompson weighed more than Tony's, who was merely Acting Agent in command. "It's rule number seventeen. _Gibbs' 17th rule: Never leave your partner without backup._ Keep it in mind." And then he pointed towards the room. "Know how to wrap up a scene, probie?"

He frowned as Thompson declined. "Don't they teach you anything at FLETC these days? Surely you must have witnessed how things go after the evidence is collected and the body with the ME."

"Not recently," said Thompson. "No one was murdered in Baltimore and I haven't been to one crime scene while being on duty for the NCIS in a while."

"Right, then watch and learn from the master, young padawan."

"I will, Master Tony Di Wan Kenobi," answered Ben and bowed in Tony's direction. Tony beamed with obvious joy. "If I am Obi Wan, does that make Gibbs Yoda or Darth Vader?" he pondered.

"Well, Darth Vader of course," Ben said jokingly.

He listened intently as Tony began to explain him the several steps on how to wrap up a scene and what he had to take care of, especially concerning where to have another look for possible evidence such as fingerprints or hair.

Under Tony's quiet and commanding words Ben let himself be guided as Tony told him to try out himself. It took a bit longer than usual, but normally Gibbs would be there and tell them to move their ass. Yet Gibbs wasn't here and Tony was aware of how important it was to help Thompson getting used to the tasks of an investigator again.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

With the truck full with evidence they halted in front of a coffee shop and Ben got out, intending to buy some. "So a black Marine coffee for Gibbs, I suppose. You want something too, Tony?" he asked.

"A chocolate cupcake would be nice," said Tony. As he watched the probie disappearing into the shop he wondered how he came to know about Gibbs' coffee habits. He knew the probie had never worked on a case with him before, or else he would've known how to wrap up a scene (we're talking about Gibbs here). He'd find out rather sooner than later, no matter what people thought of him Tony wasn't a very good investigator for nothing. His biggest strengths were his observation skills and his ability to make everyone believe he was their best friend, both skills which made perfect for undercover work. After all, he was a terrific actor.

Many of his colleagues thought he was joking around all day and wasn't a good agent, simply because he tended to make movie references, talked about woman hours on end and was lazing around. What most of them didn't realise was that he said many things without saying much at all. Tony was a discreet man. And he'd always have the six of his team and the people he cared about. DiNozzo's rule number 1: Never sit on the side-lines when your people need you.

Tony smelt the strong scent of coffee even before Ben had closed his door.

"Your chocolate cupcake like you requested it," Thompson's voice then said, sounding far away. And a wonderful formed cupcake appeared right before Tony's eyes.

"Thanks, probie." He started the engine, holding the steering wheel with his right hand while he held the cupcake in the other one. "You think Gibbs is already missing us?" he asked, his mouth half-filled with a chocolate cupcake, which according to his facial expression was delicious.

Just then Tony's mobile rang. Gibbs, it read on the display. "Talk of the devil…" muttered Tony and threw his mobile over to Thompson, who picked up with a wary expression on his face. "Assistant of Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo speaking," he said, grinning. But his grin faded and he sat up straight as he heard Gibbs' annoyed voice on the other end. "ETA is five minutes. And we've got the requested coffee, your Highness."

Beep… beep… beep… beep… beep.

"He disconnected," Thompson said, looking at the display.

"Better get used to it," Tony replied, asking one of the guards to open the gates to the yard. He flashed his ID and nodded towards the truck. "We're coming bearing presents for our Forensic Scientist, mate."

The guard just laughed and waved them through. There was barely one person at the Navy Yard, who didn't know, liked or had heard of the Senior Field Agent and Gibbs' 2nd in command. Tony was, despite all the rumours about him being a lady-killer, uh, ladies-man, a nice and easy-going guy. Someone you could end up telling your life story after a few minutes with him. He was trustworthy and charming. Tony's ancestors were from Italy and their characteristics were reflected in the quiddity of the young man. "Grazie, amico. Grazie."

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"I thought you were known for making movie references the whole time, Tony," confessed Ben as they unloaded the truck. Tony shot him a dark look. "No offense, I just wondered why you didn't make- I shut up."

Together they carefully filled a huge box with evidence and headed for the elevator. Tony trusted the box into Ben's hands as his mobile rang. "DiNozzo? Yes, alright. I'm coming. Sending Thompson to Abby."

Sensing Ben's questioning gaze lasting upon him Tony sighed quietly. "Gibbs," he said. "He wants to meet me in the autopsy."

"So I'll take the evidence to Abby and find out if she already has something for us?" Ben mused.

"Yeah, exactly. You know where Abby's lab is, don't you?"

"Of course," replied Ben, rolling his eyes at the Senior Agent. "I've been away for a while, but I'm not suffering of amnesia."

Tony chuckled. Then he grew serious again. "Why did they choose a rookie like you for such a mission anyway?"

Shrugging Ben said "Suppose Morrow had his reasons. And I had mine to agree. Before you ask, they're damn personal and none of your business."

The last sentence escaped his lips with surprising harshness. It wasn't intended, but served his cause nevertheless. It granted him some time because Tony wouldn't stop digging. But he'd do everything to build a wall around his feelings first and then let the other Agent try to break it down, brick by brick. Tony hadn't even started yet to be curious, and if this was only the beginning Ben knew the other man would give him a headache.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

There was unbelievable loud, blasting music coming out of Abby's lab (or Labby as she liked to call it) though the iron door was closed, which was unusual but not unheard of, as Ben entered the lab, carrying the box in his arms. Quietly he put it down next to the metal table and slowly emerged dancing into Abby's view, to avoid startling her.

The young Forensic Scientist instantly looked past the flickering monitor of her computer as she sensed a shadow on her face, and then she turned down the volume to a minimum.

"Ben! I wondered when you'd finally come down here again. I'm so glad you weren't hurt in Baltimore. That was an amazing idea to set off a fire alarm to find out where the guy had hidden his son."

"Hey Abby," said Ben smiling as Abby walked around her desk and pulled him into a soft embrace. He felt a bit guilty for not coming by any sooner like he had promised the Goth. "I'm sorry. But once I was back from Baltimore I was already assigned to a case to work with Gibbs and Tony…"

"How is working with Gibbs?" asked Abby tilting her head in honest interest. And her dark eyes checked for any signs of discomfort.

How someone so worried about the health of her colleagues came to work at a place like NCIS, where getting hurt was most likely one of the things Field Agents were paid for apart from solving crimes and other misdemeanours, was a riddle wrapped up into an enigma to him.

"Better than with Special Agent Lucas," Ben said flatly, leaning against a table with his arms crossed before his chest. Though almost everyone at NCIS would've been frightened or repelled to work with Gibbs- the second "b" stood for bastard- Ben liked it so far. The man hadn't yelled at him, yet. Nor had he made any comment regarding the failed undercover operation, something Lucas hadn't forgotten to mention every ten minutes or so. Ben felt tired though. "Least I think so. Gibbs only told me about the crime and sent Tony and me there."

"So what do you have for me?"

"Apparent suicide of a Navy Sergeant," said Ben, motioning towards the box on the floor.

"I'll be on it," Abby promised. "If you see Pacci could you send him down? I ran all fingerprints through AFIS and got a few hits."

"Will do," nodded the agent and made his way over towards the door.

"Wait!"

Before he could turn the doorknob, however, Abby grabbed his wrist and pushed a small paper into his hand. "That's what I've got for you, mister," she said and guided him over to one of the chairs.

"Where did you get that?" Ben asked quietly, his voice broke at the last word. Tears stung his eyes as he stared down in shock at the paper in his hands.

It was a photograph.

It showed a young couple: the man looked like he had just caught the baby in the air and he seemed thoroughly happy, while the woman smiled in overindulgence at them. Their eyes had the spark of deep and strong love for each other in them, and though there was a white bandage was around the man's head he seemed to be okay. He was wearing a military uniform- PO 2nd Class according to the insignia of rank. There were people in military fatigue and civilian clothes all around them and a ship was in the background.

"I thought it… it had been… destroyed?" stammered Ben, stroking the face of his beautiful wife Pauley. A random passer-by had taken the picture of him, Pauley and their baby boy. God, he missed them. Sometimes he caught himself praying to a God he found it hard to believe in, begging whatever higher force there was to bring them back or to bring him to them. Just so he could see them again, touch their faces and hear their voices. Hell, he knew it was selfish. It was not fair! Hadn't he been punished enough in his life? He missed them even more than a dehydrated man in the desert missed water. He needed them.

Every sense of his body was telling him there was a way to be with them again, but- it would be an act of cowardice. And people could say anything they wanted, but he wasn't a coward.

He ran his hand over his eyes and forced himself to smile as he noticed Abby's expecting gaze.

"Thank you. I can't tell you how much this means to me." Ben stood up and kissed Abby's forehead.

"No need to thank me," she replied softly.

Ben bit his lip and then turned away from her, trying to take deep breaths and to hold back his tears. Man up, he told himself. He was acting childish. It had been three years and he should be over it by now. Three damn years to the day. He reached out for the desk to stable himself as he could hear the giggling of his son, clear as crystal and so high-pitched that he winced at its volume.

Breathe, Ben ordered himself. Something was choking him, preventing him from letting any air into his lungs. And to his own surprise he complied, being an obedient soldier again. One who would follow commands without questions asked.

He flinched as someone held a tissue in his blurred view. Keep yourself together, Thompson. His fingers were shaking as he took it and his cheeks turned red as he whipped away the wet stains of treacherous tears off his face- sign of weakness.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely, embarrassed Gibbs had seen him in such a state, that anyone had seen him like this. Weak.

"What do you have for us, Abs?" asked Gibbs, giving the new addition to his team some space and time to get his emotions under control again. He knew exactly what the younger man was going through; after all he had experienced the same shock when he found out Shannon and Kelly were killed in a car crash while he was serving his country thousands of miles away.

There was nothing one would be able to find comfort in. Though getting revenge worked partly for him. But even this feeling couldn't linger his pain.

Gibbs himself had been the one together with Special Agent Stan Burley to investigate the murder of Misses Pauley Thompson and her son John. They had been murdered while Ben was visiting the funeral of his adoptive father. It was one of the few cases left unsolved.

Everyone with access to the house and connection to the family had had an alibi, nobody had seen anything or anyone and there was no motive to kill those innocent people, apart from joy.

Pauley had been raped before the culprit had shot her several times and little John had been choked to death. There had been no fingerprints, no DNA, no nothing. Except for a young Navy Petty Officer Second Class whose family had been viciously murdered left behind.

The case had hit damn close to home for Gibbs not only because the same thing had happened to his own family, also because he had met the young man for several times during the years: the first time at the funeral of his father First Sergeant Elliot Thompson, the second time when Ben's mother had been shot on the street and then for the third time under equally depression circumstances.

Gibbs couldn't help but respect the young man for his strength and his determination to bring justice to other people who had been played with badly.

What Gibbs certainly didn't know was that Ben, though he felt incredibly guilty for the death of Silverstone, had incredibly enjoyed being undercover and having a different persona, a different ID and a different past. Jeremy Gonzales, Spanish guy, military training, dishonourably discharged; prone to violence, preferred a Glock 23 to the SIG Sauer and very loyal to his superiors.

It had made him feel better; pretending he never had a family which he should be mourning about he actually came so far to enjoy life again. For a while.

He had liked it. And now it hurt. It hurt to be himself again. To pretend that life could go on like normal. Every undercover op took something from yourself, it changed you. Some people more than others. For Ben it meant that he was able to pull off a show being a cold-blooded murderer and criminal again within mere seconds. It had become his second nature. The job had made him more manipulative and calculating person. Also he now wouldn't hesitate, not even for the blink of an eye, to shoot someone. He'd just do it like BANG! And wouldn't regret it, for certain.

"I'm glad you asked!" Abby exclaimed. "Ducky already sent me a sample of Randall's blood. According to Major Mass Spec it contained venom. Snake venom. Of a rattlesnake, to be precise."

"Rattlesnake can cause severe paralysis and weakness," remarked Ben in a quiet but steady voice. His eyes were still reddened, yet the mask was intact again. "Maybe that's why Randall didn't fight off the rope."

Gibbs nodded. "Any success with fingerprints yet?"

"Not yet, boss man. I only got the evidence fifteen minutes ago," said Abby, "I'll call you when I found something."

She gleamed as Gibbs kissed her cheek and handed her a Caf-Pow. "Good job, Abs. Thompson, you're with me."

* * *

_TBC_


End file.
